


Awakening of Spirits

by Scrawlers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Legend of Zelda AU, Multi, Slowburn Keitor, current characters and ships are for the prologue and chapter one, other characters and ships will be added as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: When Prince Lotor of Hyrule is born with the Triforce of Wisdom, peace across the kingdom is shattered. Soon after his nineteenth birthday, he escapes the castle to awaken the three Divine Dragons and set right what has gone wrong, accompanied by one who may well be the Hero chosen by the goddesses.
Relationships: Acxa & Keith (Voltron), Acxa & Lotor, Background Kolivan/Antok, Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Keith & Kolivan (Voltron), Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Awakening of Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started as a fic for the Keitor Big Bang of 2018. Due to numerous factors (including but not limited to a once-in-a-lifetime vacation I took in the middle of the event), I had to bow out of the event, and the fic went unfinished. Now it's been a year since I've written just about anything due to extreme exhaustion that I've been suffering from thanks to my new job (note: having to work morning hours when you are nocturnal is _not ideal_ ), but in an effort to force myself back into writing I've decided to return to this fic, since I still really love the idea.
> 
> While at the moment I only have the prologue done (and, as far as the characters named in the tags go, the only ones who really show up in the prologue are Honerva, Zarkon, and Kolivan), I hope to have the first chapter done in one week. So if you're here for Keitor (and I don't blame you), please bear with me; chapter one should hopefully be done soon, if I can force myself through the exhaustion to make that happen.
> 
> Finally, although this is a _Legend of Zelda_ AU, it is not directly based on any of the games (and instead pulls elements from all), and I hope to explain things well enough in the narration so that, even if you haven't played the games, you can still follow along with what's going on. So don't feel as though you need to have played the games to understand; it's my intention that the very opposite be true.

> _Birthright_
> 
> _noun_
> 
> _a particular right of possession or privilege one has from birth, especially as an eldest child_

That was how Honerva had always understood the word. Yet as she lay there now, propped up by pillows, her newborn son cradled in the crook of her arm, she thought there must be a second definition the golden goddesses were operating under—one they subscribed to while laughing at her futile attempts to, unbeknownst to her, defy them.

She was the Queen of Hyrule, born the crown princess, who had ascended to the throne after the deaths of her parents and her marriage to the Gerudo King, Zarkon. She was the queen, and until now the most recent direct descendant of the demi-goddess Hylia. It was her destiny, her _duty_ , to awaken the goddess’ sacred power within her. It was her privilege, her _right_ , to inherit the Triforce of Wisdom and all that came with it. Since childhood, she had pushed and sacrificed to claim the power that was promised to her. She had prayed at every temple and spring. She had studied every ancient tome, had practiced and mastered more magical arts than any mage in the kingdom. Even her marriage—she had arranged to attend the diplomatic meeting with the King of Gerudo because she had known that he possessed the Triforce of Power. She had believed, in lieu of having any other answers or leads, that close proximity to him would awaken the Triforce of Wisdom within her. Yet the days turned to weeks, to months, to years, and the back of her hand remained as smooth and unmarked by gold as it ever had. Her magical prowess grew, but never once did she awaken divine power. Her love for her husband was not a lie; spending time around him allowed her to get to know him as a person, and the union they entered into was one of genuine love as much as it was a potential avenue for Honerva to claim what was rightfully hers. But she never lost sight of her goal. She used arcane arts to prolong their lifespans far beyond what mortals should have been able to achieve so that she would have more time to ascend to her birthright. She allowed Zarkon to manage ruling the kingdom so that she could devote more time to her studies. Even in the final trimester of her pregnancy (a pregnancy that was, by all counts, an accident and burden more than anything else), she ignored the advice of the doctors and continued to pursue her research, holding onto the belief that if she just worked a little harder, she could finally achieve what was owed to her.

Yet here she lay, propped up by pillows with sweat sticking her bangs to her forehead, staring into the too-blue eyes of her newborn son—a son whose tiny fist had borne the Triforce of Wisdom on the back of it when he was first handed to her, whose eyes _shone_ with the divine light hers had always lacked.

The impulse to smash his head against the stone wall to her immediate left was almost overpowering. The muscles in her arms tensed, enough to make him squirm just so as he turned his eyes—his goddess-damned _eyes_ —toward her again.

The door at the other end of the room opened. Honerva loosened her grip on the newborn as she looked up, and felt the immediate tension drain from her as Zarkon entered, flanked by two midwives.

“How is she?” Zarkon asked the moment their eyes met. “How is our—?”

“ _He_ ,” Honerva corrected. Zarkon froze, and his abrupt stop caused the midwives to falter as well, looking toward him uncertainly. Honerva couldn’t say she was surprised they hadn’t told him, but cowardice being understandable didn’t make it admirable. “It’s— _he’s_ our _son_.”

Zarkon stared at her, and blinked several times as if to clear an illusion or spell. When the situation remained the same as it had before, he sputtered, “That’s . . . that’s impossible. We can’t have—we _couldn’t_ —”

“Is it?” Honerva asked, and Zarkon closed his mouth. Her eyes flickered to the midwives. “One of you, take him. My husband and I have matters to discuss.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they chorused, each of them bowing as they agreed to her command. They glanced at each other, realizing they had both accepted the order at the same time, and hesitated in the same beat. Yet whether it was because they sensed her impatience, or because they were adept at communicating without words, one finally stepped forward and took the newborn from her arms, holding it— _him_ —far more gently than Honerva had before. Once more both midwives bowed, to Honerva and Zarkon both, before they turned and left the room.

The moment the door shut behind them, Honerva pushed herself up from her pillows.

“You should rest,” Zarkon said. He stepped forward, hands raised as if to push her back toward the pillows, yet stopped when he saw the look on her face. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to attempt to keep her in bed, Honerva swung her legs over the edge, and motioned for him to hand her the robe hanging from the rack against the wall.

“No amount of rest could fix the damage that has been done,” she said. She took the robe from his proffered hand and shrugged it over her shoulders. It was plush and soft against her skin, but it offered little comfort now. “It—our _son_ has stolen everything from us.”

“Our _son_ ,” Zarkon repeated. He shook his head slowly, as if that would help him better understand. “That is impossible. _We_ could not have had a son.”

“Couldn’t we?”

His eyes flashed as they met hers. “Honerva, I’m Gerudo.”

“And you are 108 years old,” she countered, and he closed his mouth. “By all accounts, it’s high time a new king was born.”

He stared at her, and as he did she could see the realization of the truth settling into his eyes and into the sag of his shoulders. “I thought,” he said at length, “that as long as I still lived—”

“We both believed many things,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice as she cut across him, “none of them true.”

The silence that fell between them was heavy, but not so much as the reality they found themselves in. Honerva squeezed the edge of the mattress in lieu of the infant the midwives had mercifully taken from her. She had worked herself tirelessly since her own age was in single digits to lay claim to the power that should have been hers from the start, and for what? She had thought she was compromising with the goddesses. She had thought she was being gracious. Yet despite her effort, despite _everything_ she had poured into claiming that should have been hers from the moment she was conceived in her mother’s womb, the goddesses had seen fit to give her power, her _birth_ _right_ to that infant instead. Her eyes burned with every ragged breath she took. To call this situation _unfair_ was to undersell it. This—this was divine _injustice_.

But she was not the only one being robbed by a boy who was still too little to comprehend what he was doing. The Gerudo, by the covenant they had sworn with the demi-goddess of the desert centuries ago, gave birth to only one boy every one hundred years. That boy was to be raised as their king, a true son of the desert sands. For a little over one hundred years now, Zarkon had been that king. He had neglected those duties for the past several decades (the Gerudo had a chief as well, a woman who stood to guide the rest and work as the right-hand of the king, and she had been handling the bulk of the responsibility while Zarkon saw to Hyrule’s needs ever since marrying Honerva and taking on the title of king consort) but those duties were still his. That _throne_ was still his. The Gerudo still answered to him, and the Elite still stood as his personal guard. He was still the Gerudo King, and his position as such had not only kept the Gerudo at their command, but had also ensured the Gerudo would do little to interfere regardless of how matters in Hyrule transpired.

Yet now a new king had been born. The infant had inherited those rights, had taken them from his father the moment he had taken his first breath. The Gerudo would lay claim to him. Goddesses knew they had never been happy with Zarkon marrying Honerva and moving to Hyrule Castle, but they had tolerated it because he was their king and there was little they could do about it without violating their oaths to their goddess. But they would not be so easily placated now. With a new king born, they no longer had to abide by their oaths to Zarkon, and they would not tolerate their king being raised Hylian. They would not tolerate anything more Zarkon demanded from them.

Zarkon had lost his birthright, just as Honerva had lost hers, and the thief who had stolen both was their own progeny.

The goddesses, Honerva was sure, had a bloody, sick sense of humor.

“We could kill him,” Zarkon said finally, and when Honerva looked up again she saw that he was watching her, gauging her reaction. “No one needs to know. We could kill him and be done with it.”

“The midwives know,” Honerva said. “The doctors know. Every servant on staff knows. Many in the noble courts as well, and even the peasantry in Castle Town. His was a royal birth; my pregnancy was not kept secret.”

“But they were expecting a daughter. We all were. The Gerudo—”

“The Gerudo need not know they have a new king. Is that what you’re suggesting?” Honerva asked. When Zarkon nodded, she said, “We may be able to keep it a secret from them, but killing the child is not an option. Too many know he was born. Killing him now would only create hassle and scandal. At worst, it could result in a revolt.”

“I would be pleased to see them try,” Zarkon said. Honerva snorted, unable to help a small smile despite the circumstances. “But what would you suggest instead? I will not stand for another taking the Gerudo throne.”

“Nor should you, but killing him would not prevent that. You have been alive for over one hundred years; even if we kill him, another will be born to take his place, and everything points to them being born in the desert. If that happens, there will be no way to prevent the Gerudo from following him instead of you.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

Honerva closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, and scrubbed her hands across her face. Finally, she said, “He has the divine power, Zarkon. _My_ power. He was born with the Triforce of Wisdom.”

Zarkon’s eyes widened, his mouth agape. “That—how is that—?”

“It is as possible as him being born male, despite you still being alive as the _previous_ Gerudo King,” Honerva said, and he closed his mouth so sharply his teeth _snapped_ together. “So long as he lives, he has my power. But there is no guarantee that killing him will release it—that killing him will transfer it to _me_ , where it belongs. I have more work to do—more research. Now, at least, we know that my power exists in this realm. We know where the Triforce of Wisdom is. And even if I do not yet have it within my own body, we do still have possession of it. So long as we possess the child, we possess the Triforce of Wisdom.”

“So the boy must live.”

“For now. It may come to pass that we _do_ need to execute him to extract the Triforce of Wisdom. Should it come to that, may I count on you to do your part?”

“I would do it now, if you thought it wise.”

Honerva’s lips curled. “That is the reason I love you.”

Zarkon raised his eyebrows. “ _The_ reason?”

“One of,” Honerva amended.

She pushed herself up from the bed at last, and crossed the room to peer into the ornate mirror attached to attached to the otherwise simple vanity on the other side. The hair that wasn’t still damp with sweat was frizzled, curling out in odd directions. Dark circles were under her eyes, her brown skin ashen. Her appearance was haggard. This was common with women who underwent the tribulations of childbirth, she knew, but that didn’t make it any easier to look at. It didn’t make her resent the thieving little brat any less.

She heaved another sigh, and brushed a wayward strand of hair down behind her ear.

“I’ll let you determine what should be done with the Gerudo,” she said, and turned away from the mirror to face Zarkon once more. He was watching her—he was always watching her. “They are _your_ people. As it stands now, we may be able to keep them from knowing—”

“We’ll sever ties with them,” Zarkon said, and Honerva blinked. It was rare that he ever interrupted her. “It will not be difficult. We’ve kept them at bay in the desert for this long. We’ll nullify the peace treaties between the Gerudo and Hyrule and strip them of their status as Hyruleans. We will bar them from entering Hyrule from the desert. Even if news does reach them that the child I sired was a son, there will be nothing they can do about it. Attempting to enter Hyrule and take him will cost them their lives.”

Honerva smiled. “And the Elite that are already here?”

“Executed by my hand for treason,” Zarkon said promptly, and Honerva’s smile grew. “They attempted to defy and betray me out of anger that I had neglected my duties in the desert for so long. I killed them and nullified the treaty between Hyrule and the Gerudo as a result.”

Honerva nodded, satisfied. “That is one problem solved, then.”

“Only one?” Zarkon asked.

“Our son was born with the Triforce of Wisdom. You possess the Triforce of Power. That leaves . . .”

“The Triforce of Courage.”

“Yes. I presume you know the legend as well as I do. The Triforce, an artifact comprised of the powers of the goddesses themselves, is split into three parts and delivered unto three bearers. With the bearers of Power and Wisdom now both present in this realm, there is reason to believe the bearer of Courage exists somewhere out there as well. And if the legend holds as true as it always has, that bearer will be the legendary Hero reborn.”

“You believe they would interfere,” Zarkon said.

“I believe if we keep our son locked within these walls in order to take my power from him as I intend to, there is a high probability of interference from the Hero, yes,” Honerva said. “We must have them just as we have our child. We need the bearer of Courage—the Hero—found, and we need them brought here now.”

“Can you locate them?”

“Perhaps. But it’s more pertinent that I find a way to relieve our son of my power. I don’t have the time to do both.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

Honerva gazed at him for only a moment before she turned and crossed the room to the door. She wrenched it open, and the moment she did, the two soldiers on guard on either side of it snapped to attention.

She ignored them.

“Which Sheikah is on duty today?” she said, raising her voice to ensure she’d be heard. “Come out here at once.”

The two soldiers looked around with some degree of alarm, but it only took a second for Honerva’s command to be answered. She couldn’t see the passageway open, but above her head she heard shifting stone, and a moment later an agent of the Sheikah dropped down from above, pivoting on the ball of his foot so that he could kneel at her feet.

“Your Majesty,” he said. Like most of his people, he was clothed in traditional white, grey, and blue garb, the lower half of his face obscured by a cowl. With the way he had bowed his head to her, she couldn’t see his eyes, though she also didn’t care to.

“Tell Kolivan I wish to see him,” Honerva said. “I expect him here in ten minutes or less.”

She could have imagined it, but she thought she saw the Sheikah warrior’s shoulders stiffen. 

“Understood,” he said nonetheless. He rose to his full height, and with a _crack_ and bright flash from a Deku Nut (Honerva had the experience to close her eyes beforehand; the guards on either side of the door did not), he was gone in the next breath.

Honerva stepped back inside the room, and shut the door behind her. As she did, Zarkon said, “You plan to use the Sheikah.”

Honerva smiled. “What other use do they have?”

For centuries, the Sheikah had been sworn to protect and serve the royal family of Hyrule. Just as the Gerudo were bound by oaths to the demi-goddess of the desert, the Sheikah were bound to oaths sworn to the demi-goddess Hylia to protect her direct descendants. The Hyrulean royal family had guards, of course; the royal guard was comprised of Hylians who had been diligently trained to be Hyrule’s militia. But the Sheikah were an elite class all their own. They could operate without being seen by the rest of Hyrule, and had knowledge and information the rest of the kingdom did not. If the Hero had been born, they would not be hidden for long. No one kept secrets from the Sheikah.

True to his oaths as the leader of the Sheikah people, it did not take Kolivan even close to the ten minutes he had been allotted to arrive. Not five minutes had passed before there was a knock on the door, and when Honerva opened it, he dropped to one knee before her.

“Your Majesty.” As with the other Sheikah before him, his tone was devoid of any emotion.

“Kolivan,” Honerva greeted, and she stepped aside to allow him entrance. “Enter.”

Kolivan rose to his feet, and did as commanded. Like the other Sheikah before him, he was dressed in the traditional garb, the red Eye of Truth present on his chest. Unlike the other, he did not obscure the lower half of his face with a cowl. But that, Honerva mused, might have been because he did not need to. His face was stoic as he inclined his head toward Zarkon, who did not grant him the same courtesy in return. All of the Sheikah were practiced at concealing their emotions, but whether it was because of his status as their leader (or whether his skill was what made him worthy of leading them), Kolivan had always been the most stolid of all.

“We have need of you and your people,” Honerva said, once she had shut the door behind him. Kolivan said nothing as he turned his eyes back to her. “We have reason to believe that the bearer of Triforce of Courage—the Hero chosen by the goddesses—has been, or will be, born soon. We need you to locate them.”

The faintest flicker passed through Kolivan’s eyes. “May I ask why?”

“What reason would you have?” Zarkon demanded.

Kolivan did not answer. In his silence, Honerva said, “We have reason to believe a threat may come to the Hero’s life. It has been brought to our attention that there are certain people within Hyrule that are no longer trustworthy.”

The tiniest crease met Kolivan’s brow. “If there is a threat to the safety of Hyrule, we Sheikah would be honored to meet it, Your Majesty. You need only tell us who.”

“We are grateful for your service,” Honerva said, “but that is not what we need from you. We need you to locate the bearer of Courage, and bring them to us. Do you understand?”

Kolivan’s eyes flickered for the briefest of seconds toward Zarkon. But when he looked back to Honerva, he nodded.

“I understand,” he said. “I will let my people know.”

“Thank you,” Honerva said. “You are dismissed.”

Kolivan bowed once, and then turned and left the room. When the door clicked shut behind him (and Honerva secured the lock), Zarkon asked, “Do you believe him to be trustworthy?”

“Not necessarily. But if—or when—he proves himself to be untrustworthy or incapable, we’ll dispose of him. There are those within the Sheikah I can bend to my will. It would not be difficult to destroy them from the inside, should it come to it.”

Silence fell over them once more. Honerva had remained by the door, her fingers gripping the handle, the feeling that she was _missing_ something, that she should be _doing_ something lodged in her gut. After a moment, Zarkon crossed the room and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. She allowed him to pull her back against his chest, and sagged into his embrace.

“You should rest,” he said, repeating his words from earlier. “I spoke to the doctors and midwives. Childbirth places much stress upon the body.”

Honerva smiled faintly. “They told you that?”

“They did.”

Honerva brushed her fingers along the backs of his hands, and shook her head. “No, my love. There is far too much to do. Far too much for me to do to allow myself to rest now. Years of research have been wasted; I must now start from scratch.”

“You must, but you don’t have to this instant. Pushing yourself beyond your body’s limits will not help you claim your power from him any sooner.” Zarkon kissed the top of her head, and then broke his embrace only to take her hand in his instead. “Come; let us retire to _our_ chambers, rather than this birthing room. You can read there, if you must, but at least do it in the comfort of our own bed.”

Honerva considered, for the briefest of moments, telling him no. She considered rejecting him, along with the notion that he could ever tell her what to do. But his hand was warm around hers, his grip secure, but not painful. And as their eyes met, she saw as much genuine concern as she did the ambition she knew they shared.

She smiled faintly.

“Very well,” she said. “But I _will_ be reading. We cannot afford to waste any more time than we already have. Nearly everything we need is within our reach; we need to claim it before it slips away.”

Zarkon returned her smile. He raised her hand to his lips, and placed a kiss along her knuckles.

“Believe me, my Honerva,” he said, “when I promise you that my intentions are, and have always been, the very same as yours.”


End file.
